The initial reaction to the newly implemented laws was...mixed to say the least. On the one hand an overwhelmingly vast majority of women seemed all for the new regulations. “Preventative Measures” as Dianne later called them. On the other hand men understandably weren’t nearly as thrilled by the prospect of rights being taken away and extra hurdles to jump through for the most basic of things. There were no shortage of protests as millions flooded the streets of all the biggest cities in the country demanding that Dianne be judged for her crimes against masculinity.

For a time it seemed like an all out civil war was inevitable. The initial fervor was monumental and seemed to split the country right down a very fine line. Days went by however, and the outrage dimmed back to its usual levels before long. Each day brought with it more appalling news and criticism of the Trent presidency. Yet, despite it all a startling number of people still supported the extremist President. Supporters who either praised what she was doing or dismissed the negatives as harmless.

Regardless of what one might have felt or thought, life always had a way of moving on.

For Charles everything that was happening on TV was terrifying to be sure, but it also didn’t involve him. The laws were meant to punish the dregs of society. He, however, was a model citizen. A responsible, happily married man who did his 9 to 5 each day, paid his taxes, and just generally lived the suburban middle-class dream. Sure, losing a foot off of his height was a tad...extreme. So long as it didn’t affect his career though he could live with it. In fact, his wife was surprisingly into the idea of suddenly being taller than her spouse.

“I wonder what’s for dinner…” The man mused as he drove home. One incidental upside to all of this political chaos was that the highways weren’t nearly as backed anymore. Seeing as how most men couldn’t even reach their car’s accelerator now, there were a lot less vehicles on the roads these days.

Charles winced as the setting sun shined in his rearview, the light blinding him for a moment before he adjusted himself. Around him vehicles sped on by, most of which blazing past him. Speeding was hardly uncommon, but with the Three Strikes law it was much better to be safe than sorry. There were some rumors than men had been shrunken down for crimes as inconsequential as jay walking. So Charles wasn’t taking any risks with speeding if he could help it.

Upbeat pop music played loudly from his speakers, Charles lightly bobbing his head to the tune as he drove. Without breaking his gaze from the road his fingers motioned towards the console and began to cycle through stations.

“So tell me Madame President, how are you feeling about your Presidency now that you’ve had a few weeks to get acclimated?” A female voice crackled through the speakers loud enough to make Charles wince. His fingers promptly went for the volume button.

“Well Sherry…” Any person in the country would’ve recognized that voice. The confident, almost cocky tone belonging to the captivating blonde who’d taken America by storm. “Thanks for the question by the way. See, if you listened to the mainstream news media they’d tell you its a disaster. “Trent” they say, “Is an incompetent sexist pig not fit to be president.” They slander me. They really do, and you know why? Because I’m winning.”

“Here we go.” Charles rolled his eyes with a wry smirk.

“I’m winning so hard that they’re upset because they aren’t winning. Cause me winning is America winning, and they don’t want me winning. Cause then they don’t win. They tell everyone I’m doing a bad job. Lemme tell ya Sherry, I’m doing a great job. The best job, and I’m just getting started. When I’m done I’ll have won so much every man and woman’s gonna be on their knees begging me to stop winning.”

“Good grief.” The man laughed. What a farce it all was. He had to give the President credit, she was one hell of a comedian. No way people bought into this, right?

There was a long pause in the radio as Dianne’s words fully sank in. It wasn’t hard to imagine the dumbfounded look on Sherry’s face as she got that rant as an answer. “I see, and what do you say to the allegations regarding your Vice President and her ties t-”

BA-WOO!

The radio was suddenly cut off as an ear-piercing siren sounded off. A flash of light caught Charles’s eye once again, this time an alternating red and blue.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” His finger instantly shut off the radio as he watched his rearview uneasily.

A police car. Surely it wasn’t signalling for him right? He was doing nothing wrong. Not speeding, using his turn signals, seat belt. It had no reason to go for him. It had to be for someone else. Right? Wrong. It most certainly was. Anywhere he went that police cruiser was right behind him. Without much choice, Charles slowed to a stop and pulled aside to the shoulder lane, car shifting into park.

“Okay, just relax. This is just a misunderstanding. Has to be.” He assured himself. He’d broken no laws. Didn’t even have a single strike to his name. He’d be fine.

Still, even inside his little suburban bubble he’d seen the news. The headlines detailing how thousands of men were given strikes and shrunken down for the most mundane reasons. Stories about women who’d allegedly use their size advantage to shove around those smaller than them. Court cases that ended with men entering over four feet tall and leaving under one foot. Try as he might, the stories played out in his mind. A cold sweat broke out along his back. No, it wouldn’t happen to him. He wouldn’t be like any of those stories on the news. That was reserved for criminals.

He was forced to sit silently in his car for several minutes before a figure emerged from the police vehicle. From her size alone Charles immediately knew she was female. Then again, no self respecting officer was a man nowadays. Too short. She walked towards Charles, sunglasses obfuscating her visage as she stopped near his window.

Quickly rolling it down, Charles attempted to lean outside, looking more like an awkwardly moving teenager than a fully grown man. “Yes Officer?”

Much to his surprise, she was a very young woman. Couldn’t have been past her mid 20’s. Her slim figure spoke of her lack of time in the field. Even at a modest 5 feet tall she still stood well over Charles though. Enough so that he was forced to crane his head upward just to lock eyes with the dark glass covering her face.

“Do you know why I pulled you over Sir?” She asked while pulling the sunglasses back into her blonde hair. Blue eyes stared expectantly at him, offering no warmth whatsoever.

“N-No Ma’am.” Despite the woman being a good ten years younger than him Charles felt a very real fear grip him.

The Officer frowned. “May I see your ID and Registration Sir?”

Oh no. “W-What? But...What did I do?”

“Do you have them or do you not?” She asked impatiently.

“No No! I have them!” Charles quickly turned and scrambled for his glove compartment. Several sheets of paper were yanked from within as he fumbled through them, eventually offering a wrinkled sheet to the Officer. “Here!”

“And your ID?” She asked with an annoyed sigh. Charles wasted no time in offering that to the lady of the law as well. She looked over the two for a moment before nodding. “Be right back.”

Without offering anything else the blonde woman turned and walked back to her car. Charles’s eyes watched her from his mirror, noting with horror what was at the side of her swaying hips. Next to her side arm was a small black bag. One which, upon closer inspection, appeared to be squirming. He’d heard stories of the inventive ways that law enforcement used to keep and maintain Third Strike offenders, but the idea of actual human beings occupying that bag struck an irrational chord.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like for them. Stuck in a dark, humid room that constantly bounced with each step the hopelessly larger woman took. Constantly smacking against her hip or being compressed against her back whenever she sat. Colliding against other shrunken men for hours on end with no light or mercy to speak of. Then at the end of the day...He didn’t dare imagine that far.

Once more Charles was stuck waiting. Sweat permeated his brow as the minutes ticked by one after the next. What was she writing? What was his crime? Did it even matter? He was a man. Whatever it was she was writing down meant he could kiss his First Strike goodbye. The court system hadn’t exactly been kind to people the last few weeks.

At last, fifteen minutes went by and the Officer stepped out from her car once more. Now that he’d noticed it, Charles could hear faint cries from the satchel at her hip as she walked. Cries from people who’d been reduced to little more than insects. By the time she’d gotten back to his car the noises had grown annoying enough that she gave it a quick smack with her palm. It went quiet after that, but not after Charles was certain he heard something crunch.

The Officer offered Charles his paperwork back in addition to a yellow sheet of paper. “If you could sign on the dotted line Sir. Please note that signing is not an admission of guilt. Merely that you’re promising to make the intended court date.”

Charles had gotten a ticket before so he knew the runaround. He automatically signed his name with a trembling hand. Anything to make the imposing woman happy. “I-If you don’t mind me asking Ma’am, what is the problem?”

“Your tail light.” She replied, crossing her arms. “One of your brake lights is out. I’d get it taken care of quickly if I were you.”

Charles felt himself go numb. Was what really all it was? A light just happened to die on him so he nearly had a heart attack? Over a dead light? It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so terrifying. “Oh…”

Once she’d seen Charles’s signature the woman nodded and set her sunglasses back over her eyes. “Make sure to attend your court date. Be aware that you may pay your ticket in advance but that will qualify as an admission of guilt and result in a Strike. Drive safe.”

“O-Of course.”

With that the Officer walked back to her car, and Charles watched her vehicle drive away, soon moving out as well. With any luck the Judge would be lenient on his case. Otherwise his wife was going to get a lot taller.